


petals

by writeiolite



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-09
Updated: 2020-09-09
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:15:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26374816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writeiolite/pseuds/writeiolite
Summary: here lies the love story of nishinoya, the commoner boy who married into the royal family, and y/n, his childhood best friend and royal guard. try as he might, nishinoya fails to impress y/n when she’s always the one saving him, but one seemingly magical night might change that.
Relationships: Nishinoya Yuu/Reader
Comments: 1
Kudos: 39
Collections: Comms





	petals

**Author's Note:**

> crossposted on my tumblr, writeiolite
> 
> [ ! ] if you want to use this fic in a reading video (like ASMR or smth), please dm/inbox me on tumblr or comment here and get my permission first

“Once upon a time, there was a _really_ dumb prince.”

“Hey!”

“And I mean _really_ dumb. _Astronomically_ dumb!”

“I heard that!”

“And his name was Prince Nishinoya.”

Whether he should stop you or wait to see how this plays out, he isn’t quite sure. It’s not as though he doesn’t know — it’s the story he’s most familiar with. The “Story of Stories” as he liked to call it. It’s the one legend he’s most proud of since becoming King.

The story of how you two fell in love.

Coming from a family of royal knights, your fate was set. You’d take on the same career as both your parents and be happy with it. In that day and age, it was typical, especially if your family has any sort of relation to the Royal Family. Still, you couldn’t fathom the idea at first — following in their footsteps just because they said so? No siree. Count Y/N _out_.

But then Nishinoya relayed the news to you.

Or rather, his step-father relayed the news to your mother who relayed the news to you. “Same difference,” Noya always said flippantly, not understanding his own contradictions either.

Anyway, the _news_. The biggest news of the century that changed your life _sorta-almost-maybe_ forever. It had the maids gossiping even _outside_ their housing, and that’s saying something in a world where talk will get you everywhere a criminal walks. Have you ever seen a spooked cat run away with its tail curled and back arched, slightly sideways but out of sight just as quick? That’s usually how the maids acted when they got caught gossiping about the Royal Family, especially when it’s a _member_ of the Royal Family.

But they didn’t consider their new Queen to be royal, and they _certainly_ didn’t accept the child prince either.

“They’re commoners marrying into the family after the late Queen — I don’t see why they’re any different than us.”

“I bet there’s a big scandal behind how they met. There’s no way the King would just marry a random woman.”

“He’s probably getting too old to find someone _actually_ suitable. Gotta get an heir quick, I say.”

And then they’d boldly laugh and go about their business, completely unconcerned for the consequences because _what could a commoner Queen do?_

Boy, if only they knew.

For as long as you’ve known her, Nishinoya’s mother was a gift from heaven graced with the power of hell. Think angelic looks only when she’s in a good mood, horns and a tail sprouting from her otherwise. You’d never say that as a child, fearing the backlash she could give with her swinging hand, but you damn well thought it.

You thought it was scary when she got onto you two “troublesome brats” as kids — cross your childish heart, you really did! But the second you saw her ripping into the maids for their gossiping about her son, you had to reconsider where the line for fear starts and admiration began. It was like her angel wings were aflame, casting a horrific shadow over the faces of the maids (who were soon fired) for their turn of speech. There was definitely more to it, something like a cape of heroism flowing off her shoulders and a valiant sword in hand — a savior in all definitions of the word — but you didn’t need to stick around and risk getting burned yourself.

From that day forward, Nishinoya’s mother had unknowingly sealed your fate as her future daughter-in-law with her inspiring knightly efforts. Why, what else would you want to be if not a heroic royal knight?

The training to become a royal knight was brutal, to say the least, but you were prepared and diligent. “Lookin’ sharp, but I bet I’m better,” was something Noya always said while passing by. As the Crown Prince, he didn’t get a lot of time to chat with a knight-in-training, even if you two were still quite young. You’d come home with new bruises and achy muscles as a reminder for your hard work, your father offering a proud smile each time. Proud… or was it sympathetic?

“It’ll get better,” he would whisper, shooting a wink at your mother who would come in behind you. Apparently you weren’t the first pupil she had.

Even so, there was a reason you were trained by your parents (“Your _mother_ , not him!”). A reason that you hadn’t known until the news was relayed to you in some other inefficient way. If it was supposed to be a surprise, it definitely worked on everyone no matter who in the grapevine knew about it. And it certainly worked for a certain brunet prince.

“ _You_?” A small finger in your face makes your eyes cross, but you tap it away with a grin that matches his.

“Yup! I found out this morning after my last day of training! Isn’t that great? We’ll be together forever now!”

Forever is quite a long time, but at that age, it seemed like the natural thing. As higher ranking royal knights, your parents have worked close to the King forever, and now you’re to do the same for Prince Nishinoya Yuu.

 _Ah_ , if only it were that easy.

“You really think you’re a prince now, huh? Put a fancy crown on and suddenly you’re better than us?”

You heard it before you saw it — the familiar commoner accent, the rallied snide remarks, and the sinking sound of a fist or knee launching itself into someone's gut. The shouts grow louder as your feet carry you faster and faster toward the commotion that you already predicted would happen eventually, you just really hoped _you_ wouldn’t have to be the one to settle any disputes.

But it’s Nishinoya — of course, you’d have to do this for your prince.

“What gives you the right to lay hands on His Majesty?!” You throw yourself between your friend and your… _former_ friends, arms outstretched and back tall even though the group of boys are much taller than you. They notice that, surely, and don’t back down, their knuckles cracking and fists grinding into palms with wry grins on their dirtied faces.

And much like the guardian angel you witnessed before, you keep them away from Nishinoya as swift and best as possible with the skills you were taught. Honestly, with how quick they are to retreat after you knock down one of them, you wonder why Nishinoya had a hard time in the first place. Sure, those boys are older than you two and a couple towered over you, but with his little brags, you expected just a bit more from him.

“You’re kinda hopeless, aren’t you?” you tease, pulling him up from the ground.

With defiance burning in his eyes and searing into you, Nishinoya sniffles up the blood that was threatening to slip down his upper lip from his bruised nose. “It won’t happen again, I swear on my life. They just caught me off guard and ambushed me like a buncha cowards!”

With his arms crossed and chin tilted, Nishinoya narrows his eyes at you. Up then down, his gaze moves, until he gives you a nod.

“What?”

“Nothing. Just don’t count on getting hurt while I’m ‘round.”

 _Hurt?_ You inspect your hands and arms before looking at your pants next, unable to find even a speck of dust. “I’m not- hey, wait up!”

Following behind Nishinoya became a normal thing for you after that, especially when he took it upon himself to somehow wander off the royal grounds and get caught up with angry commoners. You’d think he’d learn better, but it was almost as if he was out looking for trouble. If you weren’t behind him, you were in front of him trying to clean up his messes. If you weren’t in front of him, you were beside him, making sure he was okay and keeping him company. Year and year went like this until finally, _finally_ , Nishinoya had found something to protect _you_ from.

“Whoa there!” With a tight grip, a sign that he’s maybe unaware of his own strength, Nishinoya pulls you close to him, yanking you off course. By your luck, you don’t find your footing, but that’s okay, maybe that’s what he needed anyway. You can feel the warmth radiating through his thin summer sleeves as his arms wrap around you. “Be careful there, Y/N! You could’ve twisted your ankle or worse.”

You only need to scan the area briefly to see that he’s referring to the sudden dip in the ground, but you highly doubt that would’ve injured you any worse than your heart skipping a beat. Which is exactly what your heart is doing now for a different reason. “Uh, I think I’m okay…”

“You sure?” He sounds a little too disappointed, but he doesn’t let go of you. “I can carry you if you can’t walk.”

At that, you can’t help the laugh that slips through your lips, but you hold in the rest before you can hurt his pride. “Noya, I’m _fine_ ,” you insist, pulling out of his hold. “If anything, _you_ look a little red.”

On cue, his cheeks get a little pinker, but he plays it off with his classic, obnoxiously loud laugh and pushes you along. “It’s just hot out!”

“We can go back insi-”

“ _No, no, no!_ ” Nishinoya keeps pushing you along, that smile burned into his rosy cheeks and eyes creased like he won the lottery. Or like he’s hiding something. “I’d rather stay out here and get some fresh air. Plus, you know the walls talk.”

Of course, you know. They like to do more than talk, but you’ve kept Nishinoya away from that much for as long as you’ve worked for him. Little ventures outside in the garden his step-father owns are the safest place for private talks and moments of freedom. You’d even go so far to say that the royal bedrooms have rats.

“You don’t _have_ to accompany me everywhere, y’know,” he mentions, hands in his pockets as he finally decides to walk alongside you now. “I’m sure I’d be safe out here.”

You nod along. “I know. But with your courting ball coming up, I might as well stick with you in case someone gets any silly ideas.” You definitely meant someone infatuated by him, but with the look on his face, you suspect he assumed you meant him. Considering his track record…

“I’m not gonna run off or something,” he pouts.

“I hope you won’t. I don’t need my job to be any harder,” you joke, but Nishinoya scowls.

“You think I purposely try to make it hard on you?”

“What? No that’s not what I meant…” _Uh oh…_

While he usually wears his heart on his sleeve and his emotions on his chest, your best friend’s expression is bordering unreadable right now. You two have stopped walking and even the breeze doesn’t interrupt you, leaving the two of you at a standstill. At times like these, you can usually figure him out and soothe the crease between his brows, but you wonder if you’re the cause right now.

“Well, don’t worry about that,” he starts with more assurance and confidence than you’ve ever heard. “I’ll make sure you don’t have to protect me like you did when we were kids.”

You believe him this time, but if that were the case then there’d probably be no use for you in the palace, and something tells you the hole that’d leave in your heart wouldn’t be repairable.

“Right,” you agree with a soft smile, cheeks tight and jaw clenched. If he notices, he doesn’t push for more out of you, and you’re oddly grateful for the small gestures to keep you “out of harm’s way” in the safely confined garden.

And if the garden is meant to be a piece of paradise, the Royal Training Grounds are a piece of hell that rose up out of the magma (shortly after Nishinoya’s mother). Even as an adult, you still have to occasionally train with your mother watching over you, sweat pouring down your temples and limbs numb from following the same sequence over and over. It couldn’t be helped — the new knights needed someone experienced to spar with and you don’t have to accompany Nishinoya when he has royal studies, luckily.

You don’t really know what’s worse, sitting through a boring lesson, having a wooden sword rattle your elbow when the junior knights successfully land a hit, or seeing the Prince waving at you from afar, getting closer and closer in his own sparring clothes.

“Mind if I join you?”

Of course, no one can say no, each of you kneeling before him with the utmost respect despite the surprise visit. Not a moment more and Nishinoya was facing off with you, insistent that you use a real sword because he’s “not afraid of a little butter knife”… Really, it’s the _user_ he should be afraid of, but you didn’t want to burst his bubble.

That came after when you pinned him on his back, your shiny butter knife to his throat and sweat on his brow.

“I went easy on you so you could warm-up,” he lies as you let him stand. Not for long, though, for he’s already swiveling around to dodge your incessant strikes, barely able to keep his footing. Perhaps you should go a little easy on your monarch, but there’s something about the smile that plays on his lips as his tongue peaks through that makes you want to push him just a _little_ harder. Restraint and caution seem to come after the familiar comfort you feel with him, and the smile planted on your face grows with each parry and exchange.

“You know,” Nishinoya sucks in a sharp breath as you narrowly miss his shoulder, “it’s okay if you need to take a break.”

Even in the midst of blocking his next move, you don’t miss the sweat that’s glistening on his brow. “I’ll think about it,” you answer with a coy smirk. A break? Yeah, you’ll give him one.

“Don’t think too ha-” The air jumps from his lungs suddenly, his eyes silly and wide as he stares up at you from the ground, flat on his back once again.

“Time for a break?” With your chest heaving and cheeks warm, you extend a hand to your friend, noting he’s not much better than you, if not a little worse. His cheeks are completely flushed red and his tongue flops uselessly in his mouth as he tries to come up with a response. If you could read his thoughts then would it be something along the lines of his usual quips, you wonder? By the way he grumbles under his breath, you figure so — he’s always been too easy to predict. That straightforward thinking of his is something you’re fond of, even when you tell him he should try being a bit more elusive.

“Elusive?”

Days later, the two of you sit on a blanket he dragged out of some closet, hiding away in the garden together after yet another run-in with some less-than-accepting royal foreigners. At this point, neither of you are surprised — more and more royals from far lands are journeying over to the kingdom for the upcoming ball even if not all of them approve of royalty being “tainted” by commoner blood. This time he leaves without scratches on his skin, but you can’t help but think about his heart too… You can’t stand in front of him and block verbal attacks.

“Yeah. Shouldn’t you make it less obvious that you’re up to something? It’s not good to wear your emotions on your face so blatantly when you’re being watched by so many people.” You pick at the grass, the flowers, your thoughts, his thoughts, and anything else within your reach.

Nishinoya shakes his head. “I’m _not_ that readable. You don’t even have me figured out.”

“I’ve known you since I could walk,” you point out, leaning back on your hands now. Nishinoya, as you expected, snorts a laugh and gives you his full thoughts right there in his chocolate eyes and on that gooey grin.

“And you _still_ don’t know everything about me. Meanwhile, I know everything about you.” He points an accusatory finger in your face and for some reason, you’re nervous about what he has to say next. You don’t have anything to hide… Right? “You have a crush on me, don’t you?”

The laugh that blows through your lips causes a little spittle to fly out, a hand coming up to cover your mouth as you laugh harder. “Did you hit your head when I beat you up the other day?!”

Even though neither of you drastically injured the other, Nishinoya looks at you like you’ve got two heads and he’s battling a concussion. The laughs only grow in amplitude, pushing away his silly question. Knock on wood… because that’s _not_ something you can answer.

A crush is the last thing you have on your employer and best friend. The feelings you have for him have always been fond and that’s exactly why you get to keep this position. There aren’t many others who would stick up for him and his childish antics. And the more you think about it, the more ridiculous his question sounds. Did he mistake your closeness for romance? You’ve done nothing to give him that idea, right? You know all about him for sure: orange is his favorite color, spring is his favorite season, but a _crush_?

You recount the years with him while he’s thinking in his own world too, each of you remembering each moment the exact same but with one of you a bit more misguided than the other. There was the time you held hands as children until you were told it was inappropriate to continue doing so with adopted royalty. There were the times he’d invite you to his chambers to show you something and you’d lean close like you always did because it felt natural — safe. And the fonder memories were the ones in the village, walking around and seeing familiar faces that would let you two be yourselves in the confines of the diner you two both love. Those were the times that even you let yourself pretend you weren’t his knight and you were just his best friend all over again with your shoulders bumping, cheeks glowing with grins, and hearts racing from a good laugh.

Each memory evokes a familiar response within you — one you’ve always coined as fondness and elated joy when it swells warmly in your chest. As you get lost in them, you don’t hear Nishinoya mutter a “That wasn’t a no” with a smile of his own.

Besides, there are few times you could ever tell him no — not when your heart wants to tell him yes. Be it an amusing question or a short one like “Will you be accompanying me at the ball,” you manage to at least tell him yes to the last question when he asks, even if your chest tingles weirdly. Perhaps it’s a cold…!

A cold, chilling realization that this is his courting ball, and the Prince himself asked you to accompany _him_.

You could only _barely_ imagine what kind of extravagant and detailed threads would be laced through the expensive fabric on his shoulders, everything glittering and shimmering in some eye-catching way to appeal to the guests and a future wife. It’s cliché for sure, but even you can’t help but wonder with a bit of a smile either because you’re interested or simply curious. There should be no harm in thinking about it, you figured, and maybe the world agreed a little when you received a written order from your commander.

_“Attend the ball as a guest — the junior knights you trained with previously will guard. Enjoy.”_

Perfect, isn’t it? With luck like that on your side, the days ticked by faster than you could prepare for. The glittering golds and sparkling silvers twinkle in your eyes behind the masquerade mask, something Nishinoya had insisted his guests wear for whatever reason. That makes it easier for you to sneak up on him, of course, but…

“Guests aren’t allowed past this area.”

 _Good to see they newbies are doing their job right, at least._ “And when is the Prince arriving?” You try to sound a bit more refined than usual, even with the uncomfortable strain it puts on your throat and the laughs that nearly burst from your stomach.

“Uh… when he sees fit.”

Who can actually hold back from rolling their eyes at that response? Sure, they’re good at standing guard, but they should know the Royal Family always arrives 35 minutes after their events start. You have to turn away to at least remain polite when you scowl, but someone else catches the exchange from afar, their eyes locked on you as you continue to saunter around aimlessly.

You’re not the first nor the last person to inquire about his arrival — there are always some more than eager fans or money-hungry followers and saboteurs who wish to see him before everyone else and butter him up. They’ll rip into him like savory bread and eat away at his status and riches because he’s an easy target — a royal stand-in who they figure has a commoner’s brain. So when he finally arrives, you don’t rush to his side and show off your status or accolades. Frankly, it's hard to find him once more time passes and more guests swarm to him, especially when the dreaded dancing begins.

No one attends a ball without learning how to dance — it’d be embarrassing to do so — but that doesn’t mean you’re any good at it no matter how much you practiced. The ballroom floor is a beast you never fully conquered and it’s not exactly something you’ve had to protect Prince Nishinoya from, evident by the way he _completely_ jumps in without fear. A smile is burned into his face as he takes the first hand he can reach, stepping and twirling around with them with refined motions while oo’s and ah’s fall from parted lips nearby.

Like a whirlwind of petals, they spin and glide around, the small chit chat amongst them a whisper that ends in a soft decrescendo as another petal finds its way into Nishinoya’s nimble hands. Around and around they go, each flying floral friend a different color than the last until he finds himself wrapped up in a flurry of orange petals — his favorite color.

“You were looking for me earlier, weren’t you?”

“I think _everyone_ was looking for you, Your Majesty,” you quip back in that same voice from before, and somehow he’s fooled. Behind his own mask, you can see the glimmer of entertainment and the gooey grin right beneath it.

“Yeah, but I didn’t expect someone to try to break into the off-limits area,” he retorts, twisting you around yet never losing his grip on your hand or your waist. “So you kinda stuck out like a sore thumb.”

With a scoff you say, “Does that make me special? Am I suddenly allowed back there?”

For once since the never-ending song began, Nishinoya’s cadence falters just a little bit, his grin falling but not fading as your words fill his ears. “Of course not! Only one gal is allowed back there with me.”

Shades of sunset surround you — the citrus orange dress, the golden lock of his hair, and the salmon-pink on his cheeks. Another swell of the music goes by while you consider his words and your own response, your heart picking up its own tempo. “And who might that be? Where is she now?”

The pink bleeds into red. “She’s-… _somewhere_.”

 _That’s helpful._ “Well, I do hope you find her. I’m sure she’d be thrilled to dance with you.”

“Noooo, no, no,” Nishinoya laughs, his grin once again blooming. “She’s not much of a dancer; she hates this kinda stuff. She’s more into… standing back and making sure everything goes okay and stepping in to save the day.”

“O-oh?” _Being a hero to the Prince? That’s a common trait, of course…!_ “I wonder if she’ll save you from all of this foot-aching dancing,” you bait, but you know. Well, you _think_ you know, but you must be stretching reality.

“I hope so,” he muses aloud, getting caught in his thoughts for a moment. “…Oh, not to say you’re bad company or anything but- y’know-…”

Oh, you _know_. You really, really, think — _hope?_ — that you know. _Is it hope? What if it isn’t me… Why would he mean me in the first place…_

“I’ve just known this person for a long time,” he rushes out, “so these kinds of events are fun and dancing is great! But I guess I’m not doing it for the right reasons. Sorry if I got your hopes up. Not very princely of me I guess.” He’s sheepish when he pulls away, the guilt you’re familiar with only obvious to onlookers through the mask due to his habits: hanging his head, rubbing the back of his neck, and lips tucked in. Again, his emotions are right on his sleeve and he doesn’t spare his honesty, but you can’t bring yourself to comment on it like you used to.

Just in time, the song comes to an end and the most you can respond with is the formal curtsey you’d learned over the years. It’s a miracle you had learned even one dance, and you’re beginning to count your lucky stars now — it was the dance that Nishinoya had made you help him learn years ago, but you only managed to perfect it just days before through your own practice.

Still, you have to take a seat and let your feet rest from the achy heels. Years of knight training were much worse but _gosh_ this wasn’t exactly a walk down the aisle. While you may stop and observe, the party doesn’t _by far_. From petals in the air to bubbles in glasses, you watch Nishinoya have his fun with all the possible She’s… You’ve been his best friend all his life — who else would he have meant? You hope you’re not being selfish to think he meant you, and you can’t unravel why the thought of it being you makes you _giddy_. It would be easy to say it’s just nice to hear someone talk about you sweetly in third person, but… that’s something you could get anywhere. It shouldn’t make your heart dance from hearing _him_ do it, but maybe… maybe he was right when he said you hadn’t figured him out yet.

You’d play with he-loves-me and tinker with he-loves-me-nots, but the stage was set the second you felt the urge to stand by his side and defend him all those years ago — when that “forever” began. Whether it be a misfortune or not, the answer from plucked flowers wouldn’t change what’s at your core.

 _Maybe_ I’m _the idiot._

You sigh to yourself, officially needing some fresh air to dilute the haze in your mind. The lights outside shine right through the stained windows, a kaleidoscope of colors melting into your skin as you walk toward the front entrance of the ballroom. Maybe it would be best to just linger on one of the patios, but you have better chances of personal space out in the front yard. That’d be ideal.

And your wish for fresh air is _promptly_ granted when the window you passed bursts open — no, _breaks_ open. Rainbow shards are sent flying and skidding across the waxed floors, crunching down into crystalline dust under multiple pairs of uninvited boots. It doesn’t take a second more for the shrieks to come next, some shrill enough you’re almost worried they’ll break the rest of the windows, but the gruff voices of the intruders is enough of a concern on their own.

“Get the Prince!”

“Take hostages if you have to!”

“Don’t let him get away!”

Your feet move without you having to think, instinct and muscle memory guiding you to do what you’ve been trained to do: protect. Even with your feet complaining and your waist squeezed a little too tight, you barely take a second to lunge toward one of them, fully intending on taking him down.

But it’s a second too long.

Arms wrap around your waist, yanking you off balance and leaving you stunned as your view is obstructed and body pressed against fabric all too expensive for you to be touching.

“Stay behind me,” you’re told, and if you could step on his foot from behind then you _so_ would. It’s Nishinoya — did you expect any less from His Recklessness?

“Wait, but-”

You’re cut off by the charging rampage of men barreling toward you from all sides — some the black-masked enemies and others adorning the familiar helmets of your fellow knights rushing to help. Yet none of them have your heart racing like the young man right in front of you, one arm extended behind him to cage you in while the other… what? For Christ’s sake, he’s _weaponless_ and still throwing himself in front of you with so much confidence you almost believed you were in good hands.

Before he could really be in any trouble, it’s your turn to yank Nishinoya back, letting the knights clash with the intruders while the two of you narrowly make it to the edge of the fray. You’re surprised you don’t twist your ankle in the process, but you’re not surprised by the persistent, grimy hand that twists itself into Nishinoya’s royal attire, desperate to claw its way up in the social ladder and drag him down and out the castle.

“What the-” His Majesty tries to yank away, anger written all over his face that you can tell he was about to unleash, but this time you’re quicker. A blow to the back of the neck and a knee launched firmly into an unprepared stomach is all it takes for his freedom, the unknown man curling over and stumbling back into the next mass of knights headed your way.

“Oh, than-”

“ _Move_ ,” you command urgently, pulling him aside harsher than intended, but very much needed due to the sheer number of knights rushing over. “Don’t make their jobs any harder.”

Like always, you’re in front of him once more, casting a familiar shadow and in a familiar stance to uphold your number one priority of keeping him safe. And like the Nishinoya you know and are extremely, unfathomably “fond” of, he speaks out his thoughts directly, even when they’re out of place.

“Y’know, I gotta admit, you _really_ remind me of someone!” he shouts over the commotion right into your ear, and this time you don’t get to roll your eyes as you attempt to put some distance between the two of you and the bustle of trouble brewing on the dance floor.

Unlike the previous dance of agony, there’s no music to melt away numbing pain, but at least the tango doesn’t last long. Sure, you want to throw in little critiques to the junior knights nearest to you — the could haves and the should haves that you know you’ll keep to yourself but bring up next time you help them train — but there’s a time and place for you to play civilian and play knight. And they do a good job of ushering all the guests away from the center of danger, yourself included. _Sigh_.

“That was so terrifying. I thought I was going to get snatched.”

“Is His Majesty okay?”

“I don’t see him…”

Alarms go off in your head as you scan the crowds for the familiar head of boldly styled hair. He wouldn’t have gotten caught, would he? You didn’t take your eye off him the whole time, so how?

That familiar pace is back in your chest as some police and knights take the culprits outside, finally allowing the guests to walk around freely again within the room. It couldn’t have been worse — letting everyone go at once meant theatrics and cries with the harsh start of the music out of time like a circus tune, but your prince is nowhere to be seen.

“Maybe he was rushed off to his chambers.”

“I think I saw him go back into the restricted area.”

“Are you sure he didn’t go outside?”

 _Outside._ You just need to make sure he’s there — nothing more. You can keep your wits about you as long as you know nothing bad happened to him. As impulsive as he is, you doubt he’d be so careless to jump into trouble twice in a row… Maybe thrice…

“Guests aren’t allowed outside.”

You’re stopped at the doors, glass crunching under your heels while a maid is desperately trying to sweep up around you.

“I just need to check something,” you reason.

The knights don’t budge. “Guests aren’t allowed outside. Once the criminals are off the property then we have orders to lift restrictions.”

“What’s it gonna take for a girl to get some _air_ around here?!” You lift the mask up to your forehead, glaring right through knights’ armor as realization roots into their features. They stand up straighter and instantly clear the way for you. _Finally_ … you were really starting to regret your day off.

The night air is brisk on your face, inviting you to let the mask down once more to shield yourself from even a little bit of the winds, but you push forward without it just to embrace the temperature difference a little longer. And once you round the corner and make your way into the garden then the trees should be enough cover. Not just from the chill, but from the prying eyes.

If all you’re doing is checking up on him then there’s no need for the nervousness you’re feeling. The need to reason and rationalize your actions gnaws away at one part of you while the other part just wants you to embrace it. An internal battle that you may never win, but they always say to lose the battle and win the war. If you were to let your feelings run their course then would that be so bad? It’s risky given your position in the kingdom, but maybe you’re content with just having a crush and nothing coming from it. At least you can be honest with yourself about it.

That honesty is the most refreshing breath of air you’ve had all night, your chest and shoulders lifting as you do your best to hurry toward the garden. You may not have it all figured out, but you’ll be happy as long as you don’t pretend these feelings don’t exist. It seems they came out of nowhere, but they’ve been there all along while your eyes were too occupied watching him. And when all you see is him, you wouldn’t want anyone else.

“Hey, you’re not supposed to be out here.”

 _Again?!_ You turn with your irritation rising but feel the blood descend your face and your heart drop into your stomach. It’s your turn to stand up straighter now. “Commander.”

Her timing couldn’t be more inconvenient. “Why aren’t you at the ball?”

“I was looking for His Majesty,” you answer, almost robotically like you’re delivering a report. It’s muscle memory — if you get it out fast enough then you can leave.

“Look for him at the ball. Unless you want to be working? I didn’t give you tonight off for you to snoop around.”

The amount of self-restraint you have is amazing — no whining, no eye-rolling, and no groaning no matter how much your instincts would have you do with anyone else. “I’ll get back there then.”

It seems you’ve lost the battle before you could even start, and at this rate, you’ll lose the war too. Your commander accompanies you as you walk back to the ball with heavy feet and a deflated back, your mask once again secured on properly and hiding your disappointment just enough. You don’t bother to hide the frown that tugs on your face as you sip your fruity drink, nor do you hold in your sighs.

_To be or not to be?_

Someone’s getting carried away with their dances, but they aren’t the person you’re searching for.

_To be or not to be?_

The fire-breather is here. Is Nishinoya here to see him too?

_To be or not to be?_

When did you become such a lovesick puppy?

A groan leaves you, one of many to follow as the night seems to drag on. You thought it would get better, especially when Nishinoya finally made an appearance again, but there was no time to exchange words with him. If you don’t do it tonight then the atmosphere with him will undoubtedly feel awkward later. You know things you shouldn’t, feel things you shouldn’t, but both of them fit together so perfectly that you can’t help yourself. If you can tell him tonight while you’re still dressed up then it can be like someone else said it. You can tuck this memory away with the dress and the mask later, but you can’t hide it if you admit to your feelings as the Y/N he always knew. For once, there’s something even you can be a coward about.

And for the first time in days, your luck finally runs out. As if the clock struck midnight and the magic wore off, the ball ended without the happy ending you wanted and the guests all filtered out with smiles and some with darkened cheeks or jelly legs. Your own legs ached, but it was quickly dulled once you put on something more comfortable: the casual wear of Y/N, Prince Nishinoya’s personal royal knight.

 _Not to be_.

What were once light and lifted shoulders hang low, if only just for tonight. You know you don’t have the luxury to mope around tomorrow — not when things are back to normal again and you’re expected to play your role as the loyal, valiant knight you’ve always been. The more you think about it as you walk through the castle corridors, the more you can mentally prepare yourself. Even if this means going back to your own room and laying in silence with a book to distract you from your frustrations. Anything, literally _anything,_ could be better than right now.

“Y/N?” Hearing your name, hearing _his_ voice, you stop in your tracks while your heart races on. “There you are! I didn’t see you all night, but I guess you were pretty busy with that random ambush, right?”

You speak up using the voice you both know, brushing off his comment with a small huff of a laugh. It’s a familiar notion that offers you a bit of solace to go back to how things were — how they should be. “You could say that. I know _you_ were jumping right in too.”

Immediately, he’s Noya — hands on his hips and his own casual nightwear catching the candlelight and his physique while his damp hair frames his face naturally. He looks at you like you’re kids again and you’ve spilled his secrets, and in a sense you have. “ _Hey now_ , I did some pretty heroic things back there. Don’t go ratting me out right _here_!”

If you hadn’t known him, you wouldn’t have caught on, but the meaning behind his words is clear enough: talking in the halls isn’t the smartest choice. Back to the garden, where your cold realizations and fresh air can either haunt you or free you.

Side by side, the two of you follow the memorized path through the hydrangeas lines with hibiscuses. They’re an odd mix for sure — Noya pointed that out to you at first — but they’re a mix he said his step-father and mother picked out, and thus something that he likes to look at. That specific part of the garden is a symbol of their love, and a reminder to persevere even when life is stormy. Even now, with the golden lamps and the silver moon as the only sources of light, his eyes soak in the floral surroundings like it’s the first time all over again. Somehow you feel like you’re reliving a memory with him just by being here, one that’s making his lips curl just the slightest before he speaks up.

“I saved you a dance.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“I did too!” He looks at you now, glowering even though he doesn’t mean it. His eyes lack any maliciousness, the shine in them too pure and playful, especially when his trademark grin is back. “I even practiced so you wouldn’t cry over stepping on my feet.”

If only he knew you did the exact same. “Ha. Ha. How considerate, Noya. I bet that was easier than sparring, right?” You playfully nudge his arm and he returns the gesture.

“I saved someone today too!” He lights up for a second, interjecting the banter with genuine pride. “I pulled her out of danger when those bad guys rushed in. You saw, didn’t you?”

“Hmm…” you tap your chin in thought, catching how his features falter slightly. “Yeah, of course, I saw. Don’t get too sad on me now!”

“Tch, be nice! It’s not easy being the hero, y’know.” Suddenly, Nishinoya’s footsteps come to a halt, his hand rubbing the back of his neck and eyes cast away from you. You know he has something to say, and _maybe_ you know what or you’re foolishly hoping for a sudden storybook confession, but…

“It… makes me realize how hard you work.”

_To be?_

“And I don’t want to take that away from you. Your job, I mean. I’m the Prince you’re supposed to be protecting and nothing more.”

_Not to be…_

“That’s not true,” you mumble, the words not having your confidence from earlier. “You mean more to me than that.”

His arm flexes as he squeezes and massages the back of his neck, working away at his nerves and the knots that hold him back. “I believe you, trust me. I’m not dense.”

 _Debatable but… he knows? Does he know? Was I really the oblivious one here?_ You bite your lip, anxiously awaiting his next words.

“I know you’re devoted to your position as a knight and I just wanted to… wanted to say…” With a deep breath and a tug at the crown of his hair… “Iwon’tgetinthewayofyourjobanymorebecauseIreallycareaboutyou.”

If the wind had blown any harder — no, if the wind had blown _at all_ then you wouldn’t have caught his quiet words. But you do, and they drive you up a wall and to the breaking point you hadn’t realized you were reaching. All those years spent beside him… you were so preoccupied basking in the sun with him that you hadn’t realized your feelings blossomed in the shade until they _burst_ into a garden.

“What happened to being the ‘gal allowed in the off-limits area?’ Are you saying that’s just because of my job or something too!?”

Of all things to blurt out, you have no idea why it was _that_. The off-limits area means nothing to you, really, but the mere mention of it means a _whole lot_ more now. Nishinoya’s eyes are staring right into yours now, wide like the moon in surprise and waiting for more like a starved wolf. You’ll be damned before you say more. But if you do then will you get what you wanted? _Is this a good idea?!_

“Uh…” His mouth opens and closes, needing more time to sew his thought together but you can’t wait any longer.

From your pocket, you pull out the mask and the hair barrettes, fingers clutched tightly around them because if you hold them any looser then he’d see your hands trembling. The clarity that crosses his features is slow to grow in, not sprouting until you have the mask up to your face and the barrettes hovered over the position they once were. He’s not dense, he’s dense and _slow_ , and you’re having trouble keeping your breathing in check as you wait for him to start speaking.

_To be or n-_

Horror cascades his face, swallowing him up in a shadow of guilt mixed with panic and his hands gripping your shoulders with a sudden shake. “I WAS TALKING ABOUT YOU!”

“W-what?!”

“PLEASE DON’T GET THE WRONG IDEA!!!”

Is it your brain rattling in your skull from the jarring motions he’s moving you in or is it your head banging into your hands? What is he even saying? You can barely make out that all the color has risen to his face — each feature blooming in red.

“Noya, what are you-”

“W-when I told you I wasn’t interested in you!!” He takes a _gulp_ of air now, finally freezing and just holding onto you so tight you might crumble. “I-… I meant that I wasn’t interested in you because I was- I _am-_ interested in _you_. This you! Well, both you’s, but I didn’t know you were _you_ and I didn’t want anyone to get attached because I was saving a dance so I could tell… you. And then I… did tell you?”

He really pauses now, hands moving to his damp locks and tugging as if that’ll pull the knowledge right out for you both. You know what he’s saying, but the loop-de-loops getting there are making your head spin almost as much as his. And his is _spinning_ -spinning, that silly look plastered across his face while he sorts through his frustrations.

“I… I confessed to you back then, didn’t I? Technically?”

“I-I think so?” You want to say you can’t be sure now, but…

“At the same time that I told you I wasn’t interested in you.”

“Yeah…”

“UGGGHHHHH! Man!” He falls to the ground, landing flat on his butt and holding his jumbled up head in his hands. “I really did it now, huh?”

The nerves are kicking in again, but only as a soft buzz. At least you’re not the only frazzled one here as you sit beside him in the grass. “I think it’s okay, though. You didn’t know it was me, so technically you didn’t reject _me_.”

You don’t even have to look at him to know that it’s still eating away at his conscious, his poor brain working in overdrive to find a solution the doesn’t need. “I-… I can’t believe I did that. I do like you… A lot. And I was trying to find out if you liked me too so I lied about you having a crush on me before. But I don’t want to get in the way. I don’t like giving you a hard time.”

“That’s still sticking with you?” You scowl and he meekly nods. “I told you I was only joking. I won’t say it anymore if it bothers you this much. I just liked teasing you but I love what I do and I’d do anything you asked.”

“I know… That’s kinda the worse part. I know you’d do anything for me and I don’t deserve you.” He can’t seem to look you in the eye, keeping his head hanging through his somber confession.

“I don’t think I’d do _anything_ ,” you reply, trying to lighten the mood just a little. “But… I think the roles are reversed. I don’t deserve you who makes me challenge myself and open up.”

When he peaks up at you through his hair, you can see the ends of a burnt sunset on his cheeks fading away. “You’re saying that as my knight.”

“I’m saying that as the girl who can’t dance but learned how to just for you.”

His bottom lip trembles — you swear you saw it just a little — and then he takes your hand in his, wrapping them together and sharing the warmth despite the cool night enveloping you both. There are no crickets, no frogs, just the lights and the dragonflies lingering around the open spaces you don’t occupy. And with how close the two of you are, there’s more than enough open space for the pairs of dragonflies to take flight and the single ones to find each other.

“Does that mean you _do_ have a crush on me?”

“I thought you said you weren’t dense,” you shoot back.

“I’m _not_ ,” he urges. “…But if you say you do then you should prove it.”

Oh no… You feel yourself growing warm in embarrassment, not at all wanting to fill in the blanks for what that could _possibly_ mean. A kiss? A long-winded confession? A sacrifice? All you can think of is how you’re just lucky enough to be in the garden for whatever may come — you don’t want an audience for this. When you danced together and people watched, you were hidden just enough from everyone. But here and now it’s just the two of you and you’ve _never_ felt more insecure around him before.

“How?”

He squeezes your hand reassuringly. “Marry me.”

_What now…?_

You don’t hide the gasp you let out, your gaze drilling holes into him and unmoving. Like a deer in headlights now, you’re completely at a loss with your ribcage nothing more than a sandbag for your racing heart.

 _Marriage?_ Were you that naïve to go to his courting ball without considering the fact that counting leads to marriage? At the same time that it sounds like the obvious procedure, you have more doubts than you’d like to admit. No amount of gulping will assuage the dry itch in your throat and the spit you choked on. And no matter how many times you repeat the words in your head, they’re only ricocheting off the inside of your skull without any sort of understanding.

“I’m joking, I’m joking. We aren’t ready for that.” Noya holds up his hands in innocence, but you see the mischief in his eyes and across his face. If it was payback for your own teasing then he definitely won, but it doesn’t seem fair to kill the competition with untimely jokes and cute smiles, anyway.

“I mean, I _could_ tell everyone you were eager but not ready. Or maybe the other way ar- ow! Okay, no more jokes, I’m sorry!”

“Pretty soon I won’t have anything I _want_ to prove to you,” you chide in a melody, squeezing his hand extra hard once more for good measure. “Hurry up and say what you want so I can pretend this didn’t happen and pretend we did it in a much cooler way.”

“I’d say we did it-”

“ _Noya_.”

He sighs shakily but you see him fall into the cool and collected canvas of the Prince. Perfect for the throne, extraordinary at politics, and certainly a wonderful candidate for a honeysuckle sweet kiss from the girl he’s fallen for.

It probably wasn’t fair for you to lean in while he was gathering his thoughts, but something was pulling you in without regard for your better judgment. Or more accurately, some part of you was _pushing_ yourself toward him, compelling you forward to close the gap inch by inch even as he started speaking again.

“Maybe just kiss me for now, if that’s okay?” He suddenly whispers the words, eyes darting down to your lips with his own instincts pushing him forward as well.

“Anything else, Noya?” You’re one breath away, maybe even a hum away from sealing your lips together, your warmth mixing with his and the grass staining the knees of your pants but you don’t care. You want your lips stained with the feeling of his and your mind stained with the memory until you can replace it with another kiss. The surge of confidence feels like it’s back, but it’s mellower — smooth like satin and wrapping you up until you can pinpoint that you’re just _comfortable_. Of course, you would be. If not with him, then who else?

His soft fingers meet the side of your neck with his thumb gliding back and forth on your jaw. “And then whatever you want.”

What you want next is the last thing on your mind. The first is melodies, like the music from the ball or the songs you sang growing up, all harmonizing on your senses when your lips meet his for the first time. It’s not frantic — the wind barely sways through the hibiscus leaves and you lean closer as if nudged by Zephryos — nor is it greedy — it ends as fast as it started. But the tingles it leaves across your lips feel like tiny thorn pricks, aching for the pressure to alleviate you once more, and he’s more than happy to oblige.

You let your hands rest on his shoulders with ease, his own cupping your face with featherlight touches as his lips dance with yours in perfect time. This was what you were dearly missing out on, you realize. It dawns on you with a warmth in your chest you know and associate with your longterm friend, like your souls are twirling around that room again except without watchful eyes. Now the medley is one only the two of you could create together, ending with staccato kisses and smiles sprouting on your faces with your foreheads planted against the other.

“Just a crush?” he whispers, searching your eyes for the answer he already has.

“Do you want it to be something more?” You can’t help yourself from brushing your nose against his softly, trying to convey your feelings without him making you say it.

He inhales through his teeth in a thoughtful hiss. “…Yes?”

“Then marry me.”

_To be._

**Author's Note:**

> [read more fics, talk to me, and show support on my tumblr.](https://writeiolite.tumblr.com)
> 
> [ ! ] if you want to use this fic in a reading video (like ASMR or smth), please dm/inbox me on tumblr or comment here and get my permission first


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